


portrait.

by razussy



Category: Clone High
Genre: 2020 election is stressing me OUT, M/M, Oneshot, bi Jfk, gay van gogh, short fic, so here is some bs, this is how i cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razussy/pseuds/razussy
Summary: jfk and van gogh are together, what else is there to say?
Relationships: JFK/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	portrait.

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this and know who i am no u don't❤

a draft blew through the opening of the cracked window, causing jfk to shiver where he was sat. for a few hours now, he had been posed and displayed for vincent to document on a canvas; the way he craned his neck beginning to ache, along with his arm he held up among the flowers. this was for a school project, where one partner is the subject and the other is the artist, and fortunately for jfk he was paired up with the boy with a talented hand.  
as painful as it is to continue holding himself together, it would be worth it in the end with the grade he'd get for participation and creativity - for more personal than academic worth, he is able to spend time with the odd yet interesting van gogh character.

with each gentle stroke of his brush against the almost completed portrait, vincent found himself at a sense of peace. the noise of the bristles dancing on the canvas brought him to an ease, the smell of the paints he used gave him a strange form of comfort... he was in his happy place. even if this project is for a silly class for school, he adored the colors that were streaming in different directions and angles like a river. jfk had a complex figure and face structure that would benefit his skills by practicing with these elements, while still meshing his own liberties in the piece of work.  
vincent had to admit, the painting in front of him was turning out wonderful.

"hey, van gogh! it's, er uh, getting a bit chilly, are you almost done with the project?" asked jfk, as he tried his best not to turn his head in the direction of where vincent was sitting. it was getting more difficult as time went on, his uncomfortable position giving him the impulse to push all the plants away from him and stretch out his sore limbs.  
"just one more line... there, i- i think it's done. leave it to dry for a minute," replied vincent, with his usual nasal tone of voice. he set down the brush he had been using to pile on extra detail, and scooted out of the stool he's been on for quite a while. shortly after this, there was a loud groan that came from the himbo; a plop noise heard on the floor due to the sunflowers and green carnations falling.

rubbing his neck as he walked over by the shorter boy, jfk leaned over to check out the finished product, a halt in the caressing of his neck. he did not know what he was expecting from the little painter, whether it be he assumed it would be a hot mess of uncoordinated colors or a heavenly piece that used bold lining and shading, it certainly didn't match up to what he viewed then and there. no words could describe the display - it would be too difficult for him to give a shot at phrasing proper art terminology to express the beauty of the work that slowly dried its continents.  
"van gogh, i... wow, this is, er uh, incredible. how did you makes these little thingies right 'ere?" he pointed at the slits and swirls on the flowers and on the face.

"oh, well um- you see these brushes? they are used for a variety of purposes for a painting, like this one," explained vincent, as he picked up the pointed round brush. "this one is typically meant for more fine details and lines on the canvas, including the ability to retouch an area you need to clean or fix a bit." he rambled as fast as he could before placing it back down, then mumbled something about needing to wash the brushes in the meantime. jfk watched him collect the number of brushes and offered to take the mug full of dirty water, to which he was given a tired nod.  
as they traveled down the hall to the bathroom, jfk continued to listen to vincent go on about the brushes and how helpful they were in the school project.

holding another tool up, the dutch artist wiggled it between his fingers and gave him a small smile. "i used this mainly to blend out any soft edges on the flowers i created: the filbert brush."  
"filbert? what, er uh, kind of name is that?" asked jfk, as he rubbed his chin while observing the utensil. it looked funky to him, the bristles reminded him of his own gorgeous hair, but that comment would make the tinier boy to either snicker or roll his eyes. or, you know, both at the same time.  
"don't ask me, all i know is... what they are called, and how or when i am supposed to switch one out for the other," responded vincent, as he turned on the faucet to his sink.

it was a surprise the popular, pretty boy had even bothered to care about the tools meant for the skill. if anything, vincent thought this partnership would end in more or less an irritating afternoon with nonstop complications - which ended up, in fact, quite the opposite from his already low expectations. it isn't like he was disappointed how the day turned out, no, he was more than happy jfk was cooperative and patient with this tedious task. another positive to this experience was being able to stare at the himbo for hours upon hours without feeling as though he'll get threatened for simply glancing in his direction.  
but that questionable thought shall be dealt with later when vincent was alone in his room.

"i guess this is it, then, huh? you'll, er uh, bring it in tomorrow and give it to the teach, right?" inquired jfk, as he handed him the now clean mug that would hold the wet brushes. he took the moment of quietness to think about the amount of times the artist accidentally drank the paint water.  
"r-right, i will. would be easier since it's already here in my house..." trailed off vincent, as he lead the taller boy back into his room where the starry night theme put jfk in a trance. makes sense, that is the most logical reason for him to be the one to turn in their work. after this exchange, the tiny boy went ahead and started storing his supplies away in their correct spots so it didn't bother him as much later in the night.

of course, as he did this, all jfk did was watch with interest. he just liked how he moved, that isn't weird. jfk stepped in front of the canvas and got a better look at it, wondering the meaning behind the choice in flowers - he never will get an answer to this, though. during the time of admiration, vincent came back over to collect his little bottles of paint, ignoring the fact he didn't cap them and the dramatic amount differences of paint itself for certain colors. nothing too concerning for a guy like kennedy.  
"hey, short-stack? i, er uh, gotta head out now. but maybe next time we hang out, we should, uh, be at my place. deal?" offered jfk, who was smiling his dumb little grin. this caused vincent to visibly pause, not sure how to reply other than a forced 'okay.'

who knew, after only a few partnerships in that optional, extracurricular class, that the well-known idiot and quiet emo kid would hang out more often; this newly formed bond soon to be a (not-so) secret relationship only the couple and joan were aware of. no one is suspicious of this being a possibility from how close they got, thankfully, however it wouldn't end well if a certain someone did discover this fact.  
oh well. for now, jfk and vincent can happily be together at each other's homes without worry of any of the students catching them be affectionate.

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to big time rush and victorious as i wrote this just thought i should share


End file.
